


christmas ham in fire flame boxers

by ficfucker



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character, little bit of virginity kink?, maybe some praise kink in there?, the usual that i write basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:51:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: jesse & mr. white try something new





	christmas ham in fire flame boxers

Being in Mr. White’s house, standing blankly in the bathroom alone, does confusing things to Jesse’s dick. 

 

He feels like a 16 year old again: turned on and disoriented and slightly ashamed of his arousal. 

 

If Mr. White so much as mentions covalent bonds or ions, Jesse will be hit with dejavu so intense it will be classified as emotional whiplash. 

 

The anticipation of things is really getting to him, making the flesh right beneath his skin warm like a lava lamp. Him and Mr. White had gotten into a particularly rough fight that day, Jesse’s bottom lip thrums dumbly from it, and once things had cooled down, Mr. White had softly mentioned that Jesse could come over for a snack before going home. 

 

That aspect is nothing new: whenever Mr. White has overstepped or become physical, he offers something in return rather than outright apologizing. Drinks on him, letting Jesse smoke in the RV, a burger from the drive thru. 

 

And always paired was a sexual favor. They’d been handsy in the past, once Jesse had overcome the mortifying ordeal of allowing his attraction to be known, but now the pattern is Jesse getting knocked around followed by dry humping. 

 

Today, however, Mr. White has brought Jesse home. That has never happened before. 

 

Jesse knows, instinctually, this will not be the only change to their routine. 

 

That, the knowing, also confuses his dick. 

 

“Jesse?” Mr. White calls from the kitchen. “Are you alright in there?” 

 

Jesse startles and runs the water, suddenly aware of how long he’s been in the bathroom. “Be out in a second!” he hollers in response. 

 

He inhales deep, exhales through his mouth, and wanders back to the kitchen. He sniffs the air. “Yo, shit smells good, Mr. White,” he says. He’s relieved at how normal he sounds. “Guess you can cook in a whole buncha ways, huh?” 

 

Mr. White gives him an eye roll before sleeving his hands in oven mits. “Not all to my credit. You  _ did _ help butter the bread,” he says, teasing. 

 

Jesse hops up on the island and dangles his feet off the edge. His stomach gives a loud growl at the new wave of grilled cheese smell that is wafting now that Mr. White is taking the tray out. He doesn’t even feel remotely embarrassed over how eager he is for this food. He hasn’t had a cooked meal like this in however long, he can’t recall the last family dinner he attended, and in the moment, it totally makes up for the bruises Jesse is going to be sporting tomorrow. 

 

“Anything else you want?” 

 

“Huh?” 

 

Mr. White gets two green plates from one of the cabinets. “A drink?” 

 

“Oh. Water’s chill.” Jesse is full on staring at the grilled ham and cheese, more interested in that than any sex act Mr. White could suggest at the moment. 

 

Mr. White goes to the fridge and gets a gallon of water, fills two glasses. Using a cake knife, he sets the sandwiches on the plates, cuts off the crusts on both, bisects them diagonal. He offers out Jesse’s serving and he takes it, still sitting on the island. 

 

“Thanks, yo.” And then he crams a fourth of the sandwich into his mouth. 

 

Mr. White, who is leaning against the sink with his ankles crossed, casually sipping his water, smiles. “I’ve seen stray dogs with more manners than you.” 

 

Jesse slurps up a long strand of cheese that is slithering out between the bread, bites into a chunk of ham that comes sliding along with it. “Listen, I’m not complain’ about Funyuns, but this is like, gourmet shit,” he says with his mouth full. His jeans are littered with crumbs. 

 

Mr. White scoff-laughs and starts eating. Jesse can still feel eyes on him. 

 

This confuses his dick further: being in Mr. White’s house, eating a warm meal, being looked over in a distinctly sexual manner. The food has him siked, not that he wants to fuck a grilled cheese, but it’s the best meal he’s had since moving into his aunt’s house, and there is a bizarre feeling of domesticity with being at Mr. White’s house; like he can pretend their relationship is normal and healthy and they’re sharing an intimate moment together rather than the truth of it. 

 

Jesse is reaching for the second slice of his grilled cheese when Mr. White takes a step forward. Jesse acknowledges this by raising his eyebrows. 

 

“Can I see?” Mr. White asks. He outstretches a hand and cups the side of Jesse’s face, and Jesse sets his food back down on the plate to give Mr. White room to inspect his lip. He tugs down with his thumb and Jesse doesn’t know where to put his eyes, flicks them from side to side before glancing at the space between them and studying Mr. White’s shoes. 

 

“It’s not too bad. Won’t last much longer than a day.” 

 

“Oh, good. Clean slate for when you decide to Chavo Guerrero me again.”

 

Mr. White blinks. “I didn’t know you were old enough to even know who Chavo is.” 

 

Jesse rolls his eyes and smiles, leaning in and pressing his teeth gently on Mr. White’s thumb for a second. “Everyone knows Chavo Classic, man.” 

 

Mr. White slides his hand down from the curve of Jesse’s face to his neck, palms him there, and Jesse knows this is him trying to initiate things. Jesse wants to return the gesture, return the feeling of desire, but doesn’t exactly know how and just lamely presses a hand to Mr. White’s chest, toys at the buttons on his shirt. 

 

A kiss lands on Jesse’s forehead and suddenly he’s not thinking about his unfinished grilled cheese anymore. 

 

“Would you undress for me, Jesse?” 

 

The question, in it’s hushed tone, sends a wonderful little shiver through Jesse and he starts to peel off his oversized black Galaga shirt. 

 

“All the way this time?” 

 

Jesse stops, his shirt almost completely off, and gives Mr. White a hesitant look. This is the new part he assumed was coming today. It makes his insides tremble like jello, but it also kind of turns him on intensely. 

 

“Please, Jesse?” Mr. White asks. He cocks his head at a slight angle and touches Jesse on his bare shoulder, squeezes him assuring like pizza dough. 

 

“I mean, I’m game to get my dick sucked if that’s what you’re offering, but like, if you’re gonna be a  _ weirdo _ about it, I’m fuckin’ outta here.” 

 

Mr. White nods. He squeezes Jesse a second time then lets his hand fall away, stepping back and leaning against the sink to give the boy room enough. 

 

Jesse hops down from the island and huffs. He knows he’s already blushing radically, his face hot, and he fumbles with the fly on his jeans. “Starin’ at me like I’m a Christmas ham is like, you being a total weirdo, you know.” 

 

“Christmas ham...,” he mutters, amused, but Mr. White turns away, runs the water to rinse off his plate. 

 

Jesse slides his jeans down so they puddle at his ankles and stares dumbly at his own thighs, the fire flame boxer’s he has on. He rucks those off halfway, telling himself that if Mr. White’s wife comes home, he can easily yank them back up, but in truth, he knows it’s because being full nude is a state of vulnerability he’s not ready for yet. 

 

“Alright, yo, don’t miss your opportunity here.” 

 

Mr. White turns around and makes brief eye contact before raking his gaze down Jesse’s front. Both of them are silent and somewhere in the house, Jesse can hear a clock ticking, which makes him think of the Tell Tale Heart. He feels equally as crazy right now, with his heart hammering in his chest like a wild animal, his arms crossed right below his nipples, trying to remain stoic and unbothered as Mr. White dissects him with his eyes. 

 

“Nice underwear.” 

 

“You’re an asshole.” 

 

Mr. White smiles, a genuine smile, and inches forward, placing his hands on Jesse’s hips. “Can I touch you?” 

 

“Since when do  _ you _ ask permission?” Jesse can feel his own thighs quivering. 

 

“Should I take that as a yes?” 

 

Jesse groans. “Do you want a formal letter of invitation, too?” Mr. White kneels, pokes his nose against Jesse’s stomach in a weirdly flirtatious way, but he keeps rambling, “Like, a whole ass dude standing naked in your kitchen not enough to know he, I dunno, maybe,  _ perhaps _ , wants to get it on with you?”

 

“Jesse.” 

 

“What?”

 

Mr. White has his cheek resting on Jesse’s bare thigh, glancing up at him through the frames of his glasses. “You look… very handsome.” 

 

Jesse places his hands on the edge of the island, grips it tight until his knuckles strain. Genuine validation from people who know he’s trans is a rare thing and his heart swells, his nose prickles like he might well up and cry right there. “Get on with it, willya?” he pushes, but it comes out breathless. 

 

Mr. White drags his hands up and down from Jesse’s hips to the outsides of his thighs a few times before gently swiping his thumb over the length of Jesse’s t-dick. Jesse sputters, shocked at the touch despite the anticipation, and Mr. White smiles at the reaction. Jesse’s pelvis stutters as Mr. White strokes him slow and gentle, running his thumb over the swell of his t-cock, and he clamps a hand over his mouth to keep from making a noise. 

 

“Oh,  _ Jesse _ … Don’t tell me you’re a  _ virgin _ …” 

 

A squeak crawls up Jesse’s throat and he barely swallows it down in time. “N-No  _ way _ , bitch,” he lies, dropping his hand away from his mouth. “Even if I fuckin’ was, I wouldn’t let  _ you _ be my first.” 

 

This is by far the biggest untruth Jesse has ever told Mr. White. They’ve grinded on each other prior to this, but Jesse always called it off whenever Mr. White tried to touch under his jeans, always made up some reason to keep his clothes on. And prior to their relationship, Jesse has only had one person go down on him: an ex-girlfriend from back when they were in high school, and even then, Jesse hadn’t yet started hormones, so everything feels wildly different now. 

 

Jesse isn’t ashamed of his body. He’s worked hard to be where he is, faced transphobia in all the ways it can seem to manifest, is more than willing to whip his shirt off whenever he gets the chance, but bottom dysphoria is a whole other ballpark. He’s been passing well for a long time now, always a lean guy even before starting testosterone, lucky with his ability to grow facial hair, but there are some mental hurdles he can’t leap when it comes to his actual sex. 

 

“You’re an awful liar, you know.” 

 

Jesse scoffs and is about to snark something rude when Mr. White presses his mouth against Jesse’s t-dick and he moans instead. “F-Fuck’s sake, warn a guy!” he hisses, gripping the counter tighter. 

 

Mr. White suckles hard, swipes his tongue over Jesse’s head, then pulls away, saying, “Jesse, I’m going to suck your dick now.” A translucent strand of arousal hangs like a spider's thread off Mr. White’s lip, still connected to Jesse, and glancing down at it, Jesse feels like he’s going to pass out from the sight. 

 

Mr. White mouths at Jesse again, laving his tongue over the entire length of his t-cock a few times, in thick, slow stripes, before resuming a sucking motion, taking Jesse into his mouth and bobbing his head slightly. 

 

“God,  _ yeah _ , Mr. White,” Jesse chokes out. Shit feels so good, he could cry. It’s a million times better than rutting himself against Mr. White’s thigh in the cramped front seat of the RV on a boiling hot day with all his clothes still on, that’s for sure. If being smacked upside the head for dropping a beaker or measuring something incorrectly means he’ll get his dick sucked after, Jesse is more than willing to take a few punches. 

 

Mr. White hums his acknowledgment and the vibrations reverberate through Jesse’s thighs. His knees nearly buckle. He figures this is what every cis guy felt like for the first time, too; unhinged and so turned on it burns in his stomach, vision practically going white from pleasure. 

 

Jesse takes Mr. White by the wrist and drags his hand up, gestures for him to pinch his nipple, and Mr. White, with his nose still pressing into Jesse’s lower stomach, gets the idea because he twists the little bud and Jesse keens happily. His nipples aren’t as sensitive as they used to be, but it feels blindly good and Jesse bucks his hips against Mr. White’s mouth. 

 

“It’s okay if you don’t climax, you know, Jesse,” Mr. White says, pulling away to look up at him. “Not everyone is able to climax from oral stimulation alone and your first time can be-” 

 

“Please, don’t stop,” Jesse pants. 

 

So Mr. White resumes. He purses his lips around Jesse’s t-cock and flicks his tongue over it lightly before pressing his mouth to the entirety of Jesse’s slit. 

 

“Oh, fuck yeah, Mr. White, that’s so fuckin’ -  _ God _ , yeah…” 

 

Mr. White snakes his hands around so he’s gripping Jesse right under his ass, pushing him forward like he’s trying to devour him whole starting between the legs, and Jesse trembles all over, arching his back further into the island. 

 

Lightly, Mr. White rakes his fingernails over the back of Jesse’s thighs, just enough that it will probably leave behind little red snakes of raised skin, and Jesse whimpers, a small mewling sound. “I-I’m gonna - Mr. White, if you keep-,” Jesse keeps choking on his words, his head lolled back, the small lump of his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. 

 

Mr. White hums, a “go on” type noise, and Jesse’s thighs tense like a vice. Jesse is so close to the edge, he can feel his arousal in the back of his throat, crawling up his tongue like a visceral thing, and he pants openly. 

 

“Ohhh-h,  _ Mr _ .  _ White _ ,” Jesse purrs and then he’s coming, all the muscles in his body taut like knotted rope, his stomach clenched. His hands scramble on the smooth top of the island and he wishes Mr. White had hair for him to grab, but he doesn’t so instead Jesse grips his shoulders as his body bows and writhes, all the while: Mr White still keeping his mouth sealed around his t-cock, a fantastic pressure, a warm, wet compression as he throbs. 

 

Jesse sighs and his body kind of slumps like a crumpled napkin, and he pushes on Mr. White with his palm. “Yo, quit it,” he says in a weak voice. 

 

Mr. White stands and carefully pulls up Jesse’s underwear, slides his jeans back on him, and it feels so fatherly and foreign, Jesse’s eyebrows go together. “You did so well,” Mr White tells him softly, buttoning up his jeans. “You were such a good boy for me.” He hands Jesse his Galaga his shirt and he slips into it. 

 

“You did good, too,” Jesse says, just for the hell of it. He’s tired, all syrup and slow on the inside, and he glances over at the rest of his grilled cheese, which is cold to the touch now. “Good game. Real MVP of it.” 

 

Mr. White laughs by exhaling out of his nose and takes Jesse’s plate to the sink while he noisily crunches his sandwich. “Finish up and I’ll drive you home.” 

 

“Next time, I’ll cook for  _ you _ .” 

 

“Is that right?” 

  
Jesse smirks, gulps his water down. “Yeah, and if you’re a good boy for  _ me _ , eat everything I serve, maybe I’ll suck your dick after, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write something super self indulgent without worrying about the logic of it (how did jesse afford top surgery? how did badger/combo/skinny p react to jesse transitioning? etc) jesse is trans because i decided so we don't need to worry about the little details 
> 
> kudos + comments if u enjoyed 
> 
> talk to me on tumblr @ficfucker!


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